


Death Becomes Him

by mirajanihiggins



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angry John, Angst and Humor, Crying, Fluff, Grieving Sherlock, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Mystery Illness, Someone Lost a Bet, everyone else knows..., grieving mrs hudson, john at his own funeral, john is fucking clueless, thoughts about mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirajanihiggins/pseuds/mirajanihiggins
Summary: John Watson wakes up as the guest of honor at a funeral. What happened, and how will he manage is new situation?





	Death Becomes Him

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a prompt on Facebook Fanfic Fanatics group. Thanks for the inspiration!

Wha...what happened?

 

Where am I?

 

I...can’t move...can’t…

 

What is that music? God, it’s bloody awful! Sounds like a bleeding funeral! Where am I?

 

Can’t...can’t open my eyes. Can’t move. What the hell?

 

People. There are people here. I can hear ‘em. Low whispers, conversation…

 

Crying? Why are they crying? What…?

 

Sherlock. Where’s Sherlock? WHERE THE FUCKING HELL IS SHERLOCK?!

 

Calm down, Jonny boy, calm down. All this can be explained...somehow…

 

God, this bed is uncomfortable. No mattress to speak of, damned little padding, sides…

 

Sides? What kind of stupid bed has sides? A hospital bed? A box-bed of some sort?

 

A box. Sad music. Crying….

 

Oh, fucking hell, I’m dead. Shit. Fucking shit. God damn it all to hell and back, I’m dead.

 

Is this what death is like? Am I trapped in this body for eternity or what? WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

 

Calm down, calm down. Too many rational arguments for me to be dead. I can hear. I can _feel_. I can detect light through my eyelids. Can’t move my eyes, though.

 

This must be my funeral. Or a wake. Not even an Irish wake; not enough drinking going on. No toasting the dead. Nope, this is a funeral.

 

God, I’m not going to have to lie here and listen to someone give a speech about me, am I? “What a lovely doctor he was, such a kind man” and that sort of rot. I don’t think I could take it.

 

Oh, no.

 

Oh, please God, don’t let it be Sherlock delivering the eulogy. Oh, fuck, no. I’ll never live it down…

 

If I ever wake up.

 

What if I never wake up? What if I stay this way for-fucking- _ever?_ WHAT IF THEY BURY ME LIKE THIS?

 

HELP! I’M ALIVE! I’M NOT DEAD! PLEASE, SOMEBODY, TAKE A CLOSER LOOK! I’M BREATHING…!

 

Wait, am I breathing? Systems check...hearbeat, yep. Breathing...yep. Reflexes? Nope, none yet.

 

YET.

 

Maybe this is something that will wear off.

 

Maybe this is some kind of illness, or toxin, or...poison…

 

Damn you, Sherlock. Did you experiment on me? Did you give me something as a test? Did you? DID YOU?!

 

Damn you, Sherlock. Damn you to bloody hell for this. You bastard. You fucking killed me. Finally.

 

All those times you slipped something into my tea, or offered me something to eat from the same fridge where you left specimens you were working on. Damn you. Damn, damn, damn…

 

Wait, who’s that? Someone’s coming up to the casket…

 

It’s...it sounds like Sherlock! That’s his voice!

 

I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, SHERLOCK! JUST YOU WAIT…!

 

What, hold on, he’s...crying? And is that Lestrade with him? Yeah, definitely Lestrade…

 

What? You mean, you didn’t do this? You think I’m dead, too? Aw, shit, Sherlock, I am so sorry I thought it was you. God, you’re...you’re actually  _crying_ , aren’t you? Sherlock Holmes, the Great Stone face, is...crying. For me.  Shit.

 

He just asked Lestrade to leave. Why? No, Lestrade, don’t go, don’t leave Sherlock alone like this! You don’t know how much danger he’s in! He resorts to drugs when he can’t cope with his feelings!

 

Damn, he’s gone.

 

Sherlock. He’s standing so close I can almost feel him. He’s touching my arm, my...face? I’ve never felt him touch me like this before, all gentle and…

 

What? You’re going after whomever did this to me? You’ll make him pay for my death?

 

No. No, Sherlock. You don’t know...they could kill you, they could…

 

He kissed me. What the…? HE KISSED ME! OF ALL THE BLOODY TIMES TO KISS ME, YOU WAITED TIL NOW, YOU B ARMY WANKER? WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE DONE  THIS BEFORE?

 

Wait, what did you say? Did you actually say...no, can’t be. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t love anyone, much less me. He doesn’t know how…

 

Kissed me again. Oh, hell, no. This can’t...this can’t be happening. Bloody arse finally opens up about his feelings WHEN I’M FUCKING DEAD!

 

I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, SHERLOCK!

 

Move something. Move SOMETHING! Let him know you’re alive, John. Let him know before he does something stupid and joins me here. SHERLOCK! I’M ALIVE! I’M HERE! HELP ME!

 

Okay, well,  _that_ didn’t work. What else can I do?  What, what, what…

 

Open my eyes. Can I do that? Just that one, tiny thing. Sherlock would notice. I’m  _sure_ he would notice. Why wouldn’t he?

 

Stupid git will probably cock this one up, just when he needs to be  at his best, just because of sentiment. He’s always said that; “I need to keep my mind clear of sentiment, John.” Now I know why. It makes you stupid. It makes you overlook things you should have seen clearly. I mean, why didn’t he notice I’m breathing? That I’m not cold and stiff? That I still have color…

 

Yeah, well, I guess the makeup would obscure  _that_ one, but the rest? Come on, Sherlock, think! Stop being such a roaring drama queen and think! Use that vaunted brain you’re always on about!

 

Try, try, try, try...there! I was able to crack one eyelid! At least I can see just a bit…

 

Hmm, very nice décor. Sherlock went all out, or was it my brother? More likely Sherlock, with Mycroft helping out. Haven’t heard from my brother, I wonder if he’s even here or off on a toot somewhere. Hard to tell. He’s always been a bit of a wastrel, sad to say.

 

No, Sherlock would want me to have the best send-off possible.  _Had_ to be him.  Wonder who else is here? Can’t see over the side…

 

Ah, Mrs. Hudson! Thank you for coming! Don’t I look like myself? So natural! Blah, blah, blah, for God’s sake, Mrs. Hudson, notice something! Please! Look! One eye is slightly open! Come on, you’re more observant than that!

 

Aren’t you?

 

Please. LOOK.

 

Nope, she’s leaning down, not noticing anything…

 

What? Did she _actually_ just tell me that  she always thought Sherlock was in love with me? From the first moment she met me? Because I’m the only one who ever actually showed up? What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

 

I’m going to kill you, Mrs. Hudson. If I survive this, I am going to kill you. And Sherlock. I’ll make it a two-for-one special.

 

Why does everyone keep crying over me? I’ve got tears soaking into my hair and on my face and I’m  _really_ getting pissed off about this…

 

Lestrade. Thank God,  _somebody_ who’s keeping his shite together! That’s it, Lestrade, please escort Mrs. Hudson away, she’s quite overcome. God, it  _kills_ me to just lie here and watch this, knowing what I’m putting them through, even though I had nothing to do with my present circumstances. I mean, who could have done this? How could it have happened? I don’t remember a bleedin’ thing! No chest pain, no blow to the head, no...anything!

 

Lestrade again. Doesn’t anyone notice anything different about me? Look! Look closely! Lestrade, you blithering idiot…

 

No.

 

No, you did not just say that. No.

 

YOU LOST 15 QUID IN A BET BECAUSE SHERLOCK AND I DIDN’T START DATING BEFORE I DIED! YOU BLOODY MENACE! DID EVERYONE KNOW BUT ME?

 

That’s  _three_ people I’m going to have to kill after this. I don’t care if I swing for it, it  _has_ to be done.

 

Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade. You’re all going down.

 

Great. Now, heeeere’s Mycroft! What the hell are you doing here? You don’t even like me and I’m  _sure_ Sherlock is simply tolerating your presence, as always…

 

Waitaminute. Mycroft. Is comforting. Sherlock. He’s... _hugging_ him. My God. I didn’t know he had it in him. He’s actually treating him like a baby brother instead of an asset of the British Government! Jeezus! And...no.

 

No, you did not say that. Tell me you did not say that, Mycroft.

 

NO, I AM  **NOT** A BLOODY IDIOT FOR NOT FALLING IN LOVE WITH SHERLOCK! I  **AM** IN BLOODY LOVE WITH SHERLOCK! I JUST THOUGHT…

 

I just thought he didn’t love  _me. Couldn’t_ love me.

 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…

 

If I survive this…

 

Sherlock, look at me. Look. at. me.

 

I need to put everything I have into projecting that thought into that incredible brain of his, the one that doesn’t miss anything.

 

Look. At. Me. Sherlock.

 

_Look. At. Me. Sherlock._

 

LOOK. AT. ME. SHERLOCK…

 

He did! Look, he’s looking...seeing...his eyes are widening…

 

Good boy, Sherlock! Grab your magnifier! Look closer! Closer...look at my eye…

 

YES! He’s got it! He’s calling Lestrade’s attention to it, checking my pulse…

 

Calling an ambulance! Thank God! Great job, Sherlock! See, you _can_ still work while in the throes of sentiment!

 

Yes, yes, Sherlock, I’m happy I’m alive, too. Please stop crying all over me. Please stop...well, no, the kissing is actually kinda nice, but it’s a little embarrassing, too. I mean, how many people in this room knew about _us_ before _we_ did? Yeah, you’re right, it doesn’t matter any more. Keep going.

 

God, the first thing I’m going to do when I can move again is kiss you, you ridiculous berk. I can’t kiss you back right now, but just you wait.

 

Just you wait, love...


End file.
